Page 14 of Christmas All the Way

‘You could do worse,’ Orla insisted. ‘People always want flowers. And you might meet a nice man. He might come into your shop to collect a bouquet for his mother and be so captivated by you that he asks you out there and then.’

Grace stared at her. ‘You’ve been watching too many romcoms.’

Orla spread her hands in a gesture of innocence. ‘I’m only saying it would be the perfect meet-cute. It’s about time you started dating again. Honour’s daughter—’

‘If you’re about to tell me she married a prince from a small but incredibly wealthy European country, then don’t,’ Grace warned. ‘I’m not interested in meeting anyone at the moment, thank you very much.’

Except that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Someone had caught her eye and, much like Ivy and the Sugar Plum Fairy, he’d also been dancing in and out of her thoughts since Saturday afternoon. It was another reason she hadn’t mentioned her tentative plan to apply for the job at Santa’s Secret to Keeley. It was extremely likely she would winkle the truth out of her in a heartbeat.

Her mother threw her an injured look. ‘I’m only thinking of you, darling. You’re forty-two, you have the best years of your life ahead of you. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to share them with?’

‘Yes,’ Grace ground out, because this was another familiar theme. ‘But it’s not a priority. If it happens, it happens, but I’m not going looking for love.’

Orla’s eyes twinkled. ‘Spoken like a true romantic comedy heroine. You know, I have a feeling you’re going to meet someone much sooner than you expect.’

It was perfectly normal to be nervous before a job interview, Grace reminded herself as she checked the clock on the dashboard of her car and wiped her damp palms on her sensible trousers. It didn’t help that the journey had been much smoother than on Friday evening, she thought as she glanced again at the door to Santa’s Secret. She’d been worried that the relentless rain that had fallen all morning might worsen the lunchtime traffic, meaning she had overcompensated and was now a full forty-five minutes early. The result had been far too much time sitting outside the barn, and her whirling thoughts had bypassed Rational and gone directly to Overthink. Ivy had been at pains to reassure her that Thursday’s interview would be very informal but Grace had still woken up with an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach, which had only worsened as she’d dressed and set off. It had been a very long time since she’d applied for a job, and back then she’d been confident in her qualifications. What if she’d forgotten the etiquette? Her mouth went dry. What if nerves got the better of her and she made a terrible faux pas? She wrapped her hands against the cool surface of the steering wheel and forced herself to meet her own gaze in the rear-view mirror.

‘This is not helping,’ she muttered, observing the deep pink flush that had suffused her cheeks and was creeping down her neck. ‘Get a grip, Grace. It’s just a chat, not an inquisition.’

A sharp rap on the window caught her so much by surprise that she let out a loud yelp and jumped several centimetres out of the driver’s seat. Her head whipped sideways and she peered through the steamed-up glass to see a man waiting a short distance from her car. Willing her thudding heart to settle, she opened the window and saw, with a jolt of disbelief, that it was Raff Caldwell. Swallowing, she tried to look cool and unflustered. ‘Can I help you?’

A faint line appeared between his eyebrows as he surveyed her, unsmiling. ‘It’s more that I thought I might be able to help you. You’ve been sitting out here staring at your phone for the past twenty minutes. Are you lost or have you broken down?’

Grace blinked. It hadn’t occurred to her that anyone might be observing her parked status; the rain had grown steadily heavier and the car park had been empty when she’d arrived. It was not empty now, she saw. The Land Rover she’d seen him with at the weekend was parked a few metres away. How had she failed to notice it arrive? ‘Oh,’ she said, as embarrassment crawled over her. ‘No, I’m not lost and my car is fine. I’m here for an interview but the traffic was lighter than I expected so I’m early and I thought it was better to stick to my appointment than put anyone out by turning up before I was expected.’

She stopped abruptly, aware she was babbling. Raff’s frown increased. ‘An interview? To work at Santa’s Secret?’

The surprise in his tone only gave fuel to the insecurities that had plagued her all morning. Had he taken one look at her and decided she was too old? Pushing the insidious whisper that he was right to one side, she raised her chin. ‘Yes. At one o’clock.’

He checked his watch. ‘There’s no need to sit out here for the next fifteen minutes. I don’t imagine being early will be problem but, if it is, you can at least have a drink while you wait.’

She opened her mouth to decline and then hurriedly closed it again. There was no way to refuse the offer – not without appearing mulish – and the truth was she could do with stretching her legs. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

He stood back as she climbed out of the car. ‘I’m Raff Caldwell,’ he said, as she rustled in her bag for the key fob. ‘Ivy is my mother. And you are?’

She didn’t think he meant to sound so imperious but there was something distinctly Lord of the Manor about the question. She took her time locking the car, remembering Keeley’s assertion that he was not great with people. ‘Grace Murphy. Pleased to meet you.’

In other circumstances, she might have offered a handshake but she was juggling her bag, her coat and her keys and feared she might drop one or all of them if she tried to extricate a hand. Raff appeared to reach the same conclusion, because he settled for a nod. ‘I saw you here last week, didn’t I? With Dr Cotterill.’

Up close, his eyes were a distracting shade of green, she noticed, and framed with long dark lashes Grace would have killed for in her teenage years. There was also a hint of aftershave floating on the damp air – something woody, with a hint of pine. Her stomach tightened in a disconcerting replay of the first time she’d seen him and it took all her composure to remember the question he’d asked. ‘Yes, that’s right,’ she managed, glancing away in case he thought she was staring. ‘She’s an old friend. We went to university together.’

She wasn’t sure why she’d added the final bit – perhaps to plant the suggestion that she had some impressive qualifications of her own, although she hadn’t gone down the doctorate route as Keeley had. But it wasn’t Raff she needed to impress. He wasn’t going to be the one interviewing her. Or at least she hoped he wasn’t.

‘Of course,’ he said, his tone clipped. At that moment, rain began to fall again. For a second or two, Grace found herself admiring the way it glistened on his dark hair, then Raff jerked an arm towards Santa’s Secret. ‘Shall we go in?’

Trying not to picture what the moist air was doing to her own, carefully straightened hair, Grace turned towards the barn and they walked in silence. As they reached the door, they both reached for the handle at the same time and their hands touched. A sudden frisson of electricity danced across Grace’s nerve endings as she snatched her fingers back. ‘Sorry,’ she managed, flustered.

‘Not at all,’ he said, and pushed the door open. ‘After you.’

Once inside, she was relieved to spot Ivy chatting to the young woman who had been working at the till on Saturday. They both looked up, and Ivy beamed when she saw Grace. ‘Ah, you’re here. Perfect. I was just telling Misha you were coming in for a chat.’ Her gaze shifted to Raff and she frowned. ‘But I thought you’d gone. Didn’t you say you have a meeting in Colchester at two?’

‘I was,’ Raff replied. ‘And I do. But I found Mrs – Ms Murphy in the car park and thought I’d escort her in.’

Was it Grace’s imagination or did his eyes stray to her ring finger as he corrected himself. ‘Obviously I’m early,’ she hastened to say. ‘I’m happy to wait if you’re busy.’

Ivy raised a wooden flap and came out from behind the counter. There was no sign of Liberty print today; the loose dress had been replaced by practical dungarees and a plain T-shirt, and her long silver hair was swept back from her face into a low ponytail that made her look more youthful. ‘Absolutely not, I’m delighted you’re here,’ she said briskly, then glanced at her son. ‘Will I see you for dinner tomorrow?’

‘Of course,’ Raff said, bending to kiss her cheek. Now that they were together, the family resemblance was unmistakeable, Grace thought as he straightened and fired a swift look her way. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’